The Long-Awaited Magical Language Nuts Fic!
by Miri the Mentally Unstable
Summary: Haven't we all noticed the similarities between Telemain and Numair but haven't found a fic with them yet? Well, here 'tis! Now UPDATED with more chapters of insanity. PG for VERY mild language. Please R&R!
1. Telemain's Wish-and Electric Green Holes

A/N: Haven't we all noticed the similarities between Numair and Telemain and wondered why the heck there isn't a fic about them? Well, here it is, the Long-Awaited Magical Language Nuts Fic! This is a Tortall/Enchanted Forest fic. Please R&R, if enough people put good reviews in about this thing I'll write another chapter!  
  
  
Telemain walked down the path towards Morwen's house glumly. He and Morwen had just been to see Cimorene and her family, and Kazul had been there. Telemain had tried to explain about a new spell he was improvising, and Kazul nearly fried him for his use of confusing language. She had been so mad that they had had to send Telemain home.  
  
"My language isn't confusing to me," Telemain whined out loud. "I wish someone would understand me!"  
  
POP! Out of thin air a round little woman in pink suddenly appeared. "I am your fairy godmother. Tell me your wish and I will grant it to you."  
  
"Can you repeat that transportation spell again?" asked Telemain eagerly. "No one can do a normal transportation spell like that in the Enchanted Forest! Did you simply pull at the magical aura around you, or did you engage its forces to pull on the network of the forest, or-"  
  
"Look, just tell me your wish, okay?" the fairy said impatiently. "I don't want to repeat the spell. It's too hard."  
  
"Ah, so it's difficult! Is it a special strength that only members of the group *faria godmotheriosa* can activate, or just fairies, or-"  
  
"Shut up and tell me your stinking wish!!!"  
  
"Um, ok." Telemain thought hard. He could only think of one wish right now. "I wish that I could work with someone who could understand me."  
  
"Now that's a toughie." The fairy thought for a moment. "I can only think of one person who can do this without being driven mad. However, he lives a bit far away." She waved her wand idly.  
  
"Where does he- LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE!!" Telemain was hurtling through dark tunnels, black portals, electric green holes-  
  
Electric green holes? Telemain thought. He had no time to observe them because at that time he landed with a thump.  
  
"Oof!" He got up, brushed himself off, and looked around. He was in front of a hut overlooking a large city. A small toddler was watching with his hand in his mouth.  
  
"Interesting," Telemain commented to no one in particular. "The fluorescence of the expanses may have been to serve the purpose as to illuminate the trans-universal pass-"  
  
The boy's eyes widened. "Dad-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" he screamed, running into the house.  
  
A moment later a large, burly-looking man came out of the cottage. "Greetin's, traveller. Welcome to Tortall. That there's Corus. What's yer name?"  
  
Telemain was still lost in thought. "Of course, the incandescence of the portals might have been a natural phenomenon-"  
  
The villager's eyes widened. "Um, sir, I don' speak no fancy language. That there's for the nobles. I'll take yer to the palace." He grabbed the still-babbling Telemain and set off for the city.  
  
**********  
  
Onua Chamtong was passing through the palace courtyards when she saw a villager she recognized dragging a man she didn't. The man saw Onua and rushed over. "Lady Onua!"  
  
"Ah, Malen, right? You sheltered my horses in your barn in that terrible storm." Onua smiled. "What can I do for you?"  
  
"Ah, yer see, Lady Onua," said Malen, scuffing at the ground, "my child says this here man fell out 'o' the sky. And I can't understand a word he says! I was thinkin'-"he lowered his voice,"that he might be a spy 'o' some sort."  
  
Onua leaned in and listened to Telemain. He seemed to not have noticed he had been taken here, and was now rambling on about a fairy godmother's wand and if it had the same properties as a wizard's.  
  
"Oooh, this is a job for a professional," Onua replied. "Let's see-ah, good. Daine, could you come over here please?"  
  
**********  
  
Daine had been helping a particularly clumsy trainee with his mount when she heard Onua's call. She sighed. "Sarge-can you take the reins?" she asked the dark, bearlike man leaning idly against the wall. Sarge grinned, showing more teeth than necessary, and went over to the cowering trainee.  
  
Daine ran outside to Onua. "Yes?"  
  
"D'you know where Numair is?" the woman asked.  
  
"Inside, in his room. Why?"  
  
"We have a severe case of language here." Onua gestured towards Telemain. Daine caught words like "luminescence" and "transportation" emerging from the man's lips.  
  
She nodded. "I'll take him. C'mon." Daine grabbed Telemain's hand.  
  
Pulling a musing magician up numerous flights of stairs isn't easy, but Daine managed. She barged into the room she and Numair shared and bellowed, "Num-aair!"  
  
"Right here." Numair looked up from a ten-pound volume. "What's the trouble?"  
  
"Him." Daine pushed Telemain into a chair opposite Numair. "No one can understand him, and a peasant boy said he dropped from the sky."  
  
Numair leaned in towards Telemain and listened to his ramblings. He straightened up and nodded. "Right. My university friends used to do this all the time. I'll fix him." He then proceeded to roar at the top of his lungs, "OH, LOOK AT THAT MAGICAL PHENOMENON!!!"  
  
Telemain's eyes snapped into focus. "Where?" he yelled, whirling around.  
  
"False alarm." Numair calmly sat in his chair. "I'm Numair, and you're in Tortall. I do believe you've had a transuniversal transport."  
  
"Yes!" Telemain straightened up and proceeded to babble like a brook. "I do believe the luminescence in the portals was caused by the fact that-I'm Telemain, by the way-the wand, or staff, which might carry the same magical properties as-oh, I'm from the Enchanted Forest-a wizard's staff, although it was made of rowan, and the wizard's of unidentifiable material..."  
  
Numair actually looks like he understands, thought Daine. After a few minutes of trying to follow their conversation, she threw her hands in the air and stalked out. Numair and Telemain didn't even notice.  
  
**********  
Hehe! Whaddya think? Review please!  
  



	2. Cats, Arguments, and Dangerous Ponies

A/N: Hey everyone! I know it's been a YEAR since I put the first chapter up, and I have no excuse other than laziness. But I got great reviews for the 1st chapter that asked me to write more, so here tis--Chapter Two!  
  
**********  
  
Telemain nodded. "So you're saying that oven mitts are actually a magic attractor?"  
  
"Exactly." Numair took a swig of his water.  
  
Telemain sighed and leaned back in his chair. Daine, mixing bird feed near the window, looked up, surprised by the sudden silence. It was the first break in conversation in almost three days, and Numair and Telemain had pondered the meaning of life, the meaning of magic, and why in the world the holes in colanders were circular instead of square. She sighed and stirred the feed. She didn't exactly dislike Telemain. It was just that he hadn't even noticed her at all for the past few days. All he did was talk, sleep whenever he was tired (on the floor of the workshop; he never seemed to mind the uncomfort) and ate dazedly.   
  
And Numair. She hadn't gotten a single word out of him since the guest had arrived. Well, she'd give him a good talking-to. Boy, was he in for it.  
  
Meanwhile, Telemain was inspecting his surroundings, not really having noticed them before. He was in a large, airy room that looked to be a magical workshop. A very pretty young girl--what was her name? Diane or Dana or something--was doing something with birdseed over at the window. Next to the window was a shut door.  
  
Telemain frowned suddenly. "Ah, Numair--"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"How long have I been here?"  
  
His host shrugged. "Three days, give or take."  
  
"Three DAYS?!?!" Telemain shot out of his chair. "I have to be getting home! My wife will be worried, and the cats--"  
  
"Cats?" Daine was next to him in a flash. "That's the first comprehensible word you've said for days! How many cats? What colors? What names? Males and females?"  
  
"Well, um..." Daine's enthusiasum was a bit much for Telemain. "They're my wife's cats. I can't keep them straight. You should ask her. Why are you so interested?"  
  
"Daine has wild magic." Numair stood up and streched. "It bonds her to all creatures."  
  
"Really?" Telemain asked. "Tell me all about it!"  
  
"NO!" Daine shouted. She had had enough. "NO more talking! You've driven me out of my MIND for the past few days!"  
  
"Daine--" Numair began. She was angry! He had never seen her like this before. Mithros, Mynoss, and Shakith, he thought. Now I know how she wrecked Ozorne's palace. Her anger's worse than Alanna's.  
  
She whirled around and glared fiercely up at him. "And YOU! Allowing this to happen. Doing NO work whatsoever, just when Jon needs that spell! I've half a mind to set Cloud on you!"  
  
Numair opened his mouth, then closed it. She's right, he thought. As always. "I'm sorry, magelet..."  
  
"Well, stay away from the stables for a couple weeks."   
  
"Ahem." Daine spun about and fixed her black look on Telemain. He decided to remain as meek as possible. "Sorry to break this up, but I just would like to go home now, if you please."  
  
Daine softened a bit. "Yes--we're going to get you home, Telemain." She glanced at Numair. "Finish that spell up for Jon, then start working on this. In the meantime, let's find Telemain a better place to sleep."  
  
********** 


	3. Forks and Wheelbarrows

Daine was on her way from Rider trainee lessons with Onua when she saw it.  
  
"Ye gods..." Onua stopped in her tracks and stared at it.  
  
Daine stared too. The thing was huge. It was composed of several dining-room chairs lined up side-by-side, a large armchair in the middle of the line, an upside-down wheelbarrow at one end, and what looked like a giant wooden fork painted electric green at the other. Wires ran all along the chairs and were hooked in the middle to a large colander. Sitting in the armchair with the colander on his head was Telemain.  
  
"What...is...it?" Daine squeaked.   
  
"It," Telemain announced proudly, "is a magical mechanism to reproduce and carry out the functions and duties of the cross-universal spell the *faira godmotherliosa* set upon my physical self."  
  
"Huh?" Onua asked blankly.  
  
"It's a machine to send Telemain back home." came into view, shuffling the dog-eared papers that he and Telemain had been poring over for the past week. "Telemain, the luminescence spells are in check."  
  
"What about the anti-utensils default?"  
  
"Check."  
  
Daine wandered over to the wheelbarrow end of the machine. Telemain doesn't seem like the type to keep cats, she thought. Then again, they're his wife's cats. He says she talks to them. Absentmindedly, she gave the upended wheel a spin. I wish I could meet her.  
  
The air shimmered an electric green. There was a whop, and a small auburn-haired woman fell from the sky to land next to Daine. Nine cats followed the woman, landing on top of her with several furry thumps.  
  
Morwen sat up dazedly. "Where am I?" she asked. Then she fainted.  
  
d bl nNumair smacked his palm to his head and bounded over to the woman. He waved a hand in her face, then sighed and murmured a few words. Morwen floated up until she was wavering in the air about waist-level, cats still on top of her in multicolored heaps. "Onua, let's get her inside. Daine, can you get Telemain?"  
  
Daine rolled her eyes and turned to the magician. He was staring into space, eyes narrow, a small smile on his face. "Interesting," he began. "The pattern in which our nine domesticated felines fell upon my lovely spouse might have something to do with Catt's theorum that felines have nine lifespans..."  
  
"Come ON!" Daine seized his hand and dragged him, still babbling, after Numair. 


	4. Morwen Helps A Cider-Impoverished Nation

A/N: Hey, thanx 4 reviewin'! Keep it up! Do y'all really think it's that funny? Really? *sniffs* Gawrsh! And NO FLAMES yet!!!!!  
  
I just was reading the last 2 chapters and…well, they suck. REALLY suck—in terms of length, at least. I was just in such a hurry to get the story back up that I wrote these two horribly short chapters. Forgive me pleeeeeeeeease! I might edit them later.  
  
Anyhoo, I got a few reviews—OK, try 5—after I updated the story. I figure some people are reading this thing, so here goes: Chapter Four of Insanity. This has nothing really to do with Telemain and Numair—I just thought I should stick something about cider in somewhere.  
  
~Miri  
  
**********  
  
After several mugs of mild, sweet tea in the Rider mess hall, Morwen was finally beginning to grasp the concept that she was in Tortall. (A/N: The spell check wants to change Tortall to "tort all"!) "Wow," she said, draining her seventh mug. "Trouble, I don't think we're in the Enchanted Forest any more."  
  
The ragged gray cat didn't answer. He was milling about Daine, who was seated on the floor. Morwen's tough tom was purring for attention like all the other cats. Morwen frowned. Trouble was usually the least affectionate to strangers. "I said, Trouble, I don't think—"  
  
Trouble turned his yellow eyes on his "owner". "Shaddap. I'm trying to have a conversation here."  
  
"Conversation?" Morwen asked, taken aback. "But only I can talk to you…"  
  
"Things've changed, Morwen. I dunno how this chick does it, but she can talk." Trouble turned back to Daine, who was murmuring something to Fiddlesticks. Fiddlesticks had a slightly silly look on his face.  
  
Morwen looked at Numair, wondering if he was bothered by her communication with her cat. The large mage, used to the human-animal conversations, was listening to Telemain, who, still in his reverie, was musing about mathematical patterns.  
  
"And the presence of the number three in many natural repetitions of the kingdom plantae indicate that—"  
  
"Telemain," Morwen said tiredly. "Do me a favor and shut up."  
  
Telemain turned, vaguely surprised, to his wife. "Yes, dear," he said meekly.  
  
Morwen rubbed her eyes. "Um. Sir…"  
  
"Numair," said Numair (A/N: Now the spell check wants to change Numair to Numeric…tee hee…).  
  
"Yes…Numair. Could I have something else to drink?"  
  
"Sure." Numair rose from the table. "They have tea, water, mead, ale, cider…"  
  
"Cider would be excellent," Morwen replied. Numair strode over to the serving tables, picked up a cup, and handed it to Morwen.  
  
"Hm," she said, swilling the cider in the cup. Numair watched with interest. Morwen sniffed the liquid, then raised the cup to her lips and took a tentative sip. At once she sprayed it across the table, showering Daine with cider. "Filth!" she screeched.  
  
Every head in the mess hall turned to look. Telemain cleared his throat. "Morwen, dear…"  
  
"You people call this CIDER?" Morwen ranted. "Bah! It's DISGUSTING! This, my friends, is GARBAGE!"  
  
A few snickers resounded around the room. Daine wiped cider from her face. "Well…we like it," she ventured tentatively.  
  
"Bah!" Morwen said again. She peered into the cup. "Color; should be a nice rich orange-red. This is the color of MUD." She reached into her cup and ran cider through her fingers. "Consistency. Should be slightly thick yet not enough to stick in the throat—this is watery! Plus a tacky blend of bad seasonings, bad apples, and—and—" Morwen was too angry to speak. Instead, she marched up to the trestle table of beverages and banged the cider down in front of the serving lady. "Where is this ATROCIOUS stuff made?"  
  
"In the royal cider press, milady. Back of the kitchens, near the winery," said the frightened servant.  
  
"Royal, my ***!" Morwen whirled about and glared at Numair. "Show me the way to the cider press!"  
  
**********  
  
Ralph the cider brewer had had a long day. First the press broke. Then he ran out of cinnamon. Although cinnamon was not a crucial ingredient in cider, he still needed it. He'd had to wait in line for an hour at the kitchens for it. Then half a bushel of apples had dropped and exploded in the yard.  
  
Ralph sighed and poured another bushel of apples into the press. Five more hours before he could go home to his wife and obnoxious children.  
  
He looked up and did a double take. A small auburn-haired woman was plowing straight for him, a demonic look in her eyes. She was trailing a very tall man, a pretty girl, nine cats, and a short, bewildered-looking man.  
  
"Afternoon," Ralph greeted them. "What can I do for ye?"  
  
Morwen looked up at him. "Do you make the cider here?"  
  
He nodded. "Aye, I do. Make the cider for the whole palace."  
  
Morwen's eyes narrowed. She shoved poor Ralph so hard he fell over. "Move it, bub!"  
  
Ralph had had enough for the day. He scrambled up and ran out of the palace grounds to Corus.  
  
Daine shot a glance at Numair and followed Morwen into the cider house. Telemain didn't tell me his wife's obsessed with cider, she thought.  
  
In the cider house, Morwen was quickly settling into business stopping the press, getting fresh jugs, and pouring apple juice out the window. She was muttering astonishing words to herself. "Of all the ****ing incompetent ******** I have met this ****ing **** ****** takes the ****ing cake!"  
  
"Sounds like Alanna," Numair whispered. Daine nodded. The Lioness could be pretty shocking sometimes.  
  
"See all this?" Morwen shoved a jug in front of them. "Crap!" She chucked it aside and moved to the bushel basket of apples waiting. She began sorting through them, tossing the ones she didn't like out the window. "Crap—crap—crap—crap—ah!" She picked up an apple and held it to the light. "Yes, this will do." She placed it into the funnel of the press and began sorting again.  
  
After fifteen minutes, Morwen had all the apples she needed for one jug of cider. "They need to be crisp," she explained as she started the press. "Nicely symmetrical, sweet, and preferably of the Mackintosh variety." The press whirred into action, and a small stream of apple juice trickled into the waiting jug.  
  
"Good…good…" Morwen stood with her hands behind her back, feet splayed, like a general surveying her troops. "Now…the spices…" she muttered, picking up the jug and hurrying it over to the spice rack.  
  
Is she always like this? Daine asked Jasmine silently.  
  
Try living with her, the orange cat replied. She's a good sort, though—just a bit of a fanatic when it comes to cider.  
  
Morwen placed the jug gently on the windowsill. "Now," she announced, "we wait."  
  
**********  
  
That night in Numair's study, Morwen wrote the cider recipe on a large roll of parchment and handed it to Daine. "It's a secret, so I don't normally give it out, but your country is so cider-impoverished I took pity on it."  
  
"Um…sure," Daine said, puzzling over the parchment.  
  
"Telemain will show you your quarters," Numair said, pushing Telemain towards the door. The magician got the hint and took his wife's arm. They exited, trailing cats who were saying good night to Daine.  
  
"I'm glad you're not a cider fanatic," Numair said, collapsing into a chair. "I don't think I could keep up with you."  
  
**********  
  
The next day, Morwen was bright and happy at the mess hall. "I always love it when my cider is finished!" she announced over breakfast.  
  
Daine, bleary-eyed, raised her eyebrow. She had had about an hour of sleep the night before. An injured gull had come in the middle of the night and demanded to be healed with loud squawks, then stayed and gossiped for about three hours. She glanced at Numair. He looked as bad as she felt—the gull had woken him up too.  
  
"Hurry up," Morwen said, looking anxiously around the mess hall. "I want to see how it turned out." The second the last crumb was eaten by Numair she was up like a shot, dragging Telemain out of the hall, followed by sleepy cats. Numair and Daine stumbled after her, each trying to use the other as a support.  
  
**********  
  
In the cider house, Morwen breathed deeply. "Ah—the Moment of Truth." She carefully poured equal amounts of orange-red liquid into the four cups laid out in front of her. Each person in the cider house took one and, after a moment of silence, threw back the cup and drank.  
  
"WOW!" Daine gasped as taste exploded in her mouth. "It's delicious!"  
  
"Superb!" Numair exclaimed. "Absolutely marvelous! Worth the wait!" He felt more awake already. Looking at Daine, he could see she did too.  
  
Telemain and Morwen shot each other glances. "It's just Morwen's cider," said Telemain nonchalantly.  
  
**********  
  
And so it came to pass that Morwen of the Enchanted Forest brought the much- needed quality cider to the nation of Tortall. Morwen soon brought Ralph back to his job and instructed him in the ways of the FORCE—Fruity Orange- Red Color Exposed. (A/N: I know it's a crappy acronym but it'll have to do.)  
  
Soon Morwen's profile was stamped on the bottom of every cider barrel in the nation, and the recipe she wrote out for Daine became a family heirloom of Ralph's. There was actually a very interesting episode involving Ralph's great-great-great-great-great-great granddaughter, the recipe, a Number Two pencil, and a cell phone…but that's another story.  
  
**********  
  
  
  
Hehe! R&R plz. Chapter 5 comin' soon! 


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